A Nation Born of Fire: Story of the Human Race
by Terminian
Summary: The story of a nation built by fire. Of a people, called Humanity, who have thrown off the yoke of Hylian oppression to create a fledgling democracy in the land known as Termina. And a man named Link, who wants to be a part of it.
1. A King's Decree

_Author's Note: This is my interpretation of the Legend of Zelda universe. I wanted to go for a more adult setting , and if their world is anything like ours, racism will always play a role. I wanted to write a story set in Hyrule's distant past, that spans up until the events of Majora's Mask. I hope you like it, and reviews are _ALWAYS _ appreciated!_

**A Nation Born of Fire**

_By Terminian_

_Freedom means you are unobstructed in living your life as you choose. Anything less is slavery._

Every nation is built upon the blood, sweat, and tears of those bound by chains of iron or obligation. Hyrule was no exception. The oral traditions had said the Goddesses, those three divines who were supposed to have made the world in their image, created from the earth all the races that would inhabit this new land. Of all the peoples that Farore had crafted from the clay that Din laid in the ground, and the air Nayru had breathed into the sky, though, she cherished one people above all others.

Out of the stone, she crafted the mighty Gorons, the fierce, but loyal denizens of the highest mountain tops. Out of the water, she formed the Zoras, as elegant as they were graceful, they were given domain over the rivers and tributaries of Hyrule. The wood from the trees of the vast forests were carved into the shapes of small children, the Kokiri, to be eternally playful, and to guard the fairies who made the forest their home.

Finally, turning to the scorched lands of the western desert, legend held that Farore scooped the sand into her hands, and molded the first Hylian. The figure stood upright, the ears pointed so as to better hear the goddesses decrees, with minds that would see the truth. But the sands of the desert made poor models, and before Farore could finish breathing life into their shells, they began to fall apart. Their forms became scrappier, their ears rounded. The verdant goddess turned away from the desert in dismay, leaving the half-finished shells to melt back into the shifting sands.

But the shells refused to melt.

As Farore stood upon the highest point in the field that connected all the disparate regions of the land, she crafted her final race out of the pure aether that comprised her essence. This was her favoured race, the Hylians, the people she would gift her magical abilities to, in order for them to shape the land as they needed after Farore had left them to join her sisters in the heavens.

Deep in the desert, though, wise men told of the shells of the Goddesses' failed creations. Though they looked much like Farore's Favoured, they were denied that which had made the Hylians so gifted. Though they excelled at feats of the physical, and possessed minds sharper than any blade, they were quickly subjugated by their brothers, made slaves by the King of the Hylian tribes even as he decreed in stone that no Hylian shall ever again endure bondage.

This is the story of the Human race.

"BY THE GODDESSES" The clay pitcher of wine smashed against the stone wall of the banquet hall, sending rivers of red cascading down to the floor. The King of the tribes of Hylia stood, facing the messenger, his face as red as the wine. He held the written communique` tightly in his left hand, wrinkling it. "You mean to tell me that they've sacked yet another garrison?" He growled.

The young messenger winced at the question, knowing very well that's exactly what the message said. Even if he hadn't read it, he had seen the carnage with his own eyes. "Y...yes your highness, not a soul survived."

King Rex Nohansen Hyrule was silent for a moment. Finally, his voice subdued, he asked, "Are they sure it was Terminus' men? This couldn't have been the work of the Gorons?"

The messenger began to speak but a chill wind suddenly blew. The candles lighting the hall flickered and dimmed for a moment, only to return to their steady, yellow glow.

From the shadows a voice spoke to the king. "We found no evidence of the Gorons, your Highness. Our sentries along the river saw no sign of incursion from their mountain fortress." Nohansen turned to the shadow and sighed.

"Terek, must you always make such an entrance?" Out of the darkness stepped a figure cloaked in black. His hair was a steely silver, his eyes, supported by high, pale cheek bones, were the red crimson so ominously associated with the Sheikah, the Shadow Folk. The royal messenger looked on in disbelief, since very few Hylians had seen a Sheikah, even after they had pledged their loyalty to the Crown.

Seemingly ignoring the king, the man went on. "They would have raised the keep to the ground, instead we found supplies taken; food, weapons, horses. And," He said, licking his lips, as if tasting the evidence he was about to present, "we found no Human slaves among the dead."

Nohansen bowed his head. "Then, indeed, it was Terminus and his band of filthy outlaws."

"We were given no warning by those prisoners we currently hold in..." But Rex lifted a hand to silence Terek, and pointed to the messenger.

"You." He growled tersely. "You're dismissed." The messenger turned to leave. "Do not, under any circumstances, tell anyone what you witnessed there. The official report will say the Gorons perpetrated the massacre." The royal messenger looked confused at his king. Rex snorted and waved him off. "Just do it!" The man beat a hot retreat from the dining hall, leaving the king alone with his adjunct.

Turning to Terek, he sighed. "I've asked you before not to speak of the dealings going on within that accursed place. It would be damaging to the crown, you fool." He sneered. Terek simply gazed back, unaffected.

"But of course, my liege." He bowed slightly. "But, as I said before, the men we have in our custody have been less than helpful. They are tight lipped, even given the... methods," His mouth twisted into a evil smile, "we've employed."

The king picked up his serving knife, and traced the area on a map lying next to his unfinished meal, where the army encampment had been. Near where the river meets the entrance to the desert, near an outcropping of red rock, one of his lieutenants thought it an important choke point to hold.

"Fools! Building the garrison so near the Garanda," He used to the word, human for homeland, with a vile tone. "They should have had sentries both day and night watching that godforsaken place." He jammed the knife into the heart of what was known in Hylian lore to be the birthplace of humanity, the western desert. "Like rats, they crawl out of their nest, to steal, to pillage, then they flee back to safety."

"Calling them rats, my Lord, is giving them too much credit." Terek hissed. The king nodded, not looking up. "They do not even believe in the Goddesses, the ones who gave them being. This lot in life, they have claimed it for themselves through their blasphemy."

The king knew well enough the religious tendencies of most human slaves. It was not five harvests before that he had had a group of them rounded up, near the river that flowed by the Castle, and massacred the lot of them for their vocal belief that the legend of the Goddesses creation was nothing but myth, and that the crown perpetuated it to keep the other races subdued. The vile rhetoric was enough to make him sick, and the king turned away from the map.

He eyed Terek, the Warden of the crown's most terrible secret. He was chief Shiekah advisor to the king, and was head priest of the Shiekah tribe's most sacred temple, the Shadow Temple. The Hylian royalty had long ago reached an agreement with the Shadow Folk, most skilled in the art of interrogation and infiltration, that all the enemies of the crown would be sent to the prison built into the upper levels of the temple, to be subjected to all manner of terrible acts, until they at last gave up their secrets.

"Terminus cannot be allowed to continue his attacks unimpeded." The king said.

Terek nodded. "He believes the 'slaughtering of the heretics' was the last straw, my Lord. His men, his agent provocateurs, they have sown discontent among the human slaves, and roam without fear of reprisal within the free human ghettos and settlements."

The King looked indignant. "I was doing what had to be done; an attack on our beliefs, the most sacred of our vows, is more frightening than an attack on this crown." He said, tipping his head, the ruby studded headdress glittering in the soft light.

"But my lord, your men have lost every engagement with Terminus and his band of armed thugs. Their skill with the blade outstrips every Hylian soldier under your command, except..." Terek said, trailing off.

The King looked sharply at his advisor, impatience in his voice. "Get on with it!" Terek nodded politely.

"Let me offer you the services of my personal guard. They will root out the vermin." Rex stood quietly for a time.

"Nonsense!" The King laughed. "Your leaders, the elders of the Shadow Folk tribe; The compact they signed pledged that their warriors would never be used to fight a war for the crown, only to guard it's royal family members." He sighed and turned to the map, studying it as if it would review a secret it had been keeping all along. "There's no way that I could command a regiment of Shadow Warriors to go after one man, one human."

Terek quickly agreed. "Of course, your highness! But isn't this insurgency a threat to the crown? Why, if the resistance is allowed to grow, you yourself could be threatened!"

The king slammed a clenched fist into the table. "That's preposterous!" His meaty finger was pointed in Terek's face as his own turned red. "It's one thing for Terminus to win engagements, skirmishes; it is quite another to even entertain the idea that he could successfully battle his way into my keep, to take from me by force that which he does not deserve by right."

Terek was silent, knowing he had inadvertently insulted the monarch, but he knew he had gotten his message across. The king began to calm, his head lowering, his voice equally so. "These guards of yours, they would be sworn to secrecy?"

Terek bowed in agreement. The King sighed, and looked back at the map, the dagger thrust into the heart of the human homeland, a place Farore herself had forsaken. He quietly muttered, "Then be done with it."


	2. A Deadly Gamble

_A Deadly Gamble_

The smoke from the fires burning around the makeshift camp gave the air a haze, and made it taste musty. Terminus, the leader of the human slave revolt, walked the grounds. He stood tall, almost a head taller than most men. His dark brown hair was worn long, though like most humans, he tied it tight with braids. He wore the light armor of a Hylian guard, though the royal sigal, the Triforce, had been scraped off, and the armor colored red.

The leather and iron clinked as he went from camp fire to camp fire, conversing with his men. It had been an especially cold winter, and between the scarcity of food, and their constant, nomadic lifestyle, Terminus had lost more men to the elements than to the blades of his enemies.

"General." A soldier said and nodded to him as he passed. Terminus placed a hand on his shoulder, a minute gesture, but one that caused the soldier's chest to swell with pride. The men called him by the rank of General, but he had no more right than any of them to claim such a title.

Still, men all around the camp nodded or saluted as he passed, and among the battle-hardened veterans of their campaign, he saw a striking commonality.

Some men showed wounds bore in battles; a missing eye, facial scars, missing fingers. Others carried the scars of winter on their backs; patches of frostbite, forms shrunken with malnourishment. He sighed and bowed his head, he had hoped that it wouldn't have gone this far. After the Hylian Royalty had slaughtered the innocents by the river, Terminus had taken up arms against the crown.

That was five harvests ago, and while he had had no shortage of volunteers, they were no closer to assuring freedom for the rest of their kind. Tracing a finger around his left ear, he felt the round curve, and felt the sting of his oppressors, even here amongst his most loyal men.

Year after year, he had fought and won almost every engagement with the royal army. But they were only scattered, small victories, he lacked the men to challenge the King's generals in open combat. His men had become well equipped, though, even for such a rag-tag force. And support for their movement had grown strong, even among those still bound in chains by their magic wielding cousins.

But all the support in the world wouldn't grant the Humans their freedom. Only a decree by King Rex Nohansen. Terminus spat at the ground at even the thought of the despot's name. That porcine patriarch would only free humanity from bondage at the tip of a sword, of that Terminus was sure.

Finally, though, the frost had begun to recede, and the smell of spring hung in the air, a promise of fairer weather, but with the caveat that with the snow's disappearance, the King would send his soldiers out to scour the green landscape for him and his men.

He walked until he neared a tent set up on the bank of the river his men were camped by. The flap was still closed to keep out the early morning cold, but Terminus didn't bother announcing himself as he entered, his friend was expecting him.

Terminus' second in command, Lucius Ordana, stood up immediately, a weary smile crossing his cracked lips. Terminus took his brother-in-arms into a embrace.

"Brother, I had heard you and your scouts had returned with the pre-dawn light, and that you hadn't even given yourself to rest, yet." Terminus mock scolded his long-time friend. Lucius grunted and swept his hand over the maps and scrolls that covered a make-shift table, candles casting a burnt yellow light across the already yellowing parchment.

"I shall sleep when I'm dead, brother. Please, sit, we have much to talk about." He offered Terminus a stool, which he accepted. Lucius sat across from him. "I nearly ran my mounts into the ground, getting back here. We forded the river near the base of Death Mountain, and were spotted by Rex's blood hounds." He snorted in disgust, referencing the sentry garrisons that the King had stationed along the river to guard against an attack from the mountain dwellers. "A small group of them chased us across the plains. My men haven't slept for more than a spell in several days."

Terminus leaned forward. "So, you were able to secure a meeting with Gor Darmus?" The patriarch of the Goron tribe had fiercely resisted the King's attempt to annex their mountain realm, and force the proud race to swear fealty to him. The Goron's had been fighting the Hylians to a stalemate, hence the river garrisons.

Lucius looked back at his friend with weary eyes and slid a scroll from out of a leather couriers sack and unrolled it across the table. "If you can call it that. Those boulders don't seem to be able to tell the difference between us and the Hylians. One of my men took an arrow in the knee before I was able to parley and get within shouting distance. Once they realised I wasn't speaking Hylian, we were able to see the patriarch."

Lucius and his men had weathered over two months in the mountain stronghold of the Gorons. The winter had made it impossible for them to trek across the country without stopping, and risk being caught. Lucius knew the visit would be for the long haul. Terminus almost envied him, sitting out the worst part of the storm that had claimed so many of his men. But the mission was a diplomatic one, and there was no one he would have rather sent.

The scroll was littered with the Goron hieroglyphic language, interspersed with much more ornate human script. Under the writing several pictures and diagrams crowded the page. "We weren't able to secure any of the ore itself, but here are the instructions for our own smiths to produce the steel we need to re equip our men."

Terminus looked over the diagram again, trying to make sense of the pictures and text. "But it's mostly in Goron." His brow furrowed.

"My man, Tenly, he speaks their language. He served as our interpreter." Lucius sat back in his chair. "Besides, we had little time to translate while we were there, as I'm sure you heard about what happened, by now at least." Terminus nodded.

Several days after their arrival, the Goron's capital city was attacked by the Hylian army. They had snuck around to the north of the mountain, it's unprotected backside. It was precisely because of the terrible winter that the Gorons had let their guard down to anything but a frontal assault. Terminus himself had once scaled the northern face of Death Mountain, and he knew how unforgiving it could be, even during the warm months.

That Rex would force his men to climb that beast, only to fight another, was inconceivable, and as one soldier to another, he pitied the Hylians. But he had to give them credit, by all accounts the foot soldiers had held the northern side of the mountain much longer than anyone anticipated. But they were fighting an unrelenting enemy on their own turf, in the middle of a blizzard. You don't walk away from that.

And by all accounts, no one had.

Lucius' eyes fell to the floor. "The Gorons, they tore men apart with their own two hands. It wasn't even a fair fight."

Terminus studied the diagrams with a renewed interest, not even bothering to look up. "Wouldn't you? If you were defending your home? A curious race; Gorons can be the most ingenious of people, yet can also be the most savage." Lucius nodded.

"My friend, you have a way of cutting to the core of a question." Lucius and Terminus had known each other since childhood. They had watched each other's back, as living in the ghettos could be somewhat hazardous to one's health. A boot maker by trade, Terminus had found in Lucius a very capable soldier, and an even more capable diplomat.

Terminus set the scroll down and looked straight at his friend. "Then you won't mind if I cut straight to the point and ask you; what did we have to give up?"

Steel was king, at least among the non-magical races of Hyrule. The battlemages of the Hylian army could strengthen the iron cuirrasses of their soldiers through spells and incantations. The Gorons and Humans, though, were forced to use what was available to them. Humanity had been the first to discover steel through an accidental iron forging experiment. The resultant metal alloy was far stronger than iron and made better, sharper swords.

But Humanity had neither the means or the material resources for mass steel production. But in the intervening years since the Humans had given the formula to the Gorons as a peace offering, the mountain smiths had perfected a process to create more steel with less iron. In his hands, Terminus held the makings of an army that would have a chance against the Hylians. So when he asked Lucius what the cost was, he knew it would be high.

Lucius stood up and paced the earthen floor. His fingers combing his ragged, greying beard. "You need to understand, the Gorons weren't completely victorious, they took casualties, they lost people. The Hylians might not have been well-equiped or well fed, but they were well led."

Terminus' stomach sank, he knew where this was going.

"The patriarch, his heir, Cor Ebiza, fought the hardest of all, taking the fight from behind their defenses, straight to the enemy camp. I fought with him, he was a good..." He was about to say Goron, but soldiers who fight together sometimes stop seeing the differences between them. "...man."

Terminus rubbed his face with his hands. "Oh god, you didn't. Did you?"

"I swore to Darmus that in exchange for the formula, we would honor him by killing the Hylian General who slayed his son. It was the only thing he would accept." Lucius threw his hands up in defeat. "Oh I tried offering him money." He took a sack from the corner of the tent and threw it on the table. Green, blue, and purples rupees, the currency of the kingdom, spilled out and across the wood, clinking and glittering in the light. "But you'd swear they thought it was food, for crying out loud. They practically eat the rocks they mine out of that mountain. My men and I lived on half rations and mountain berries for that whole trip."

"Lucius, you're asking me to kill one of the king's Generals. You have any idea what that will cause? The repercussions, the retaliations?" Terminus stood up and leaned across the table, his finger pressing into the scroll he had just been asked to sacrifice everything for. "We started this war with the death of innocents, this will only cause more of the same!"

Lucius pulled the scroll out from under his friend's finger and rolled it back up. "This war barely survived the winter. Look out there, do you think any of those men will survive the next? These next few months are our last chance. This insurrection, this insurgency will be crushed if we cannot equip ourselves to strike at the heart of the throne." He looked down, his voice lowering. "Or at least the throat."

Terminus' eyes widened at the implication. "You didn't just suggest what I think you did."

Ordana refused to meet his gaze. "The order is not mine to give. The men, whatever the depths of their loyalty to me, still look to you for direction." Finally he raised his head. "But this battle will not last another winter, you know that," He pointed outside. "And the men know that, though no one, save myself, has the constitution to tell you." He rolled out another scroll across the table, a map of Hyrule and all the known Hylian army garrisons, the royal city, with it's partly-finished keep embedded into the mountainside, keeping watch over all Rex Nohansen called his. "Give me two months. Two months is all I need to plant the men I need and make contact with our supporters in the ghettos. At the appointed hour, a quarter of our forces will attack the main garrison here to the south, near Lake Hylia." His fingers traced their way across the landscape of the map. "Gor Darmus has promised two hundred of his men will then flood across the river, drawing reinforcements from..." Terminus looked up at his friend, his eyes wide with surprise.

"The Royal City." He breathed.

"There is only one way to end this conflict, and the death of Nohansen will secure that victory for us. We are stronger than you give us credit for. Given the time to equip our men, we will be a match for the strongest of his." Terminus took in a long breath and sat back in the chair he had been offered earlier.

"This could mean the end of us." He said softly. Ordana wouldn't, or couldn't meet his gaze.

"Would you have us continue on this road? Constantly hiding from our enemies, waiting for the elements to dwindle our forces until none are left to fight but old, broken men?" Terminus rubbed his eyes, as if but clearing his vision he might see another way out.

Standing, he made his way to the entrance of the tent, stopping for a moment. He didn't bother to look back at his life-long friend. "I need time to think this over."

Lucius didn't bother responding.


	3. A King's Work

A Nation Born of Fire

By Terminian

_A King's Work…_

"The lands to the east are as fertile as you like, m'lord." The peasant stuttered. He held the ragged cloth cap tightly in his hands, wringing it with stress. King Rex, already bored near to tears with the man's endless droning on about the planting season, didn't even bother to look in his direction. "The only problem is, my boys, they can't plant anywhere's near the river, or the fish folk attack them."

The King groaned and lowered his head even further, the Zora's had claimed most of the eastern pasture lands for themselves, and had set about destroying any Hylian settlements that had popped up in recent years. He had no way of protecting the farms close to any of the watersheds, as the water-dwelling denizens seemed to use the waterways with great efficiency, evading every patrol he sent after them.

He shot the man a stern gaze. "If you cannot protect your own homestead, I suggest you find fertile land elsewhere."

"B...but m'lord..." Rex was about to order his guards to show the man out, when he felt his advisor, Terek, lean closer.

"Sir, if you fail to act, it may be seen as a sign of weakness." His serpentine voice hissed in his ear. The peasant seemed to shrink at the sight of the Sheikah. The King sighed and bid the commander of his guard to approach.

Coriotantus, the head of the King's Guard, knelt before his king, his golden armor clinking obscenely.

"Take twenty of your most able-bodied soldiers and scour the riverbanks in the easternlands, report to me after the next moon." Coriotantus nodded and turned to leave.

"Th... thank you, m'lord." Rex Nohansen grunted and poured himself another goblet of wine, as the peasant turned to leave.

Taking a long drink, Rex slammed the cup down on the table.

"Finally, all that silly business is done. How many peasants did I have to see today? Too many."

Terek nodded slowly. "A King's work is rarely easy." His monotone voice making it hard to pick out the sarcasm underneath. "But alas, the work is not finished..."

"Ah, you mean that rotten business with that filthy brigand." The King snarled.

"There are rumors circulating that the human ghettos are organising, stockpiling weapons."

"Impossible, it's illegal for Humans to own weapons." The king said, incredulously.

"There are no bounds to the Human deceit. No lengths they will not go to, to meet their own needs." Terek spat. "But that is not what I meant. There are reports, sir, coming from the mountain garrisons, grave reports indeed."

"Well now, this news is almost welcomed after the pain that filthy human has caused me. What fares in that rocky waste those rock-biters call home?" Terek laid out several reports.

The king studied them closely, scrutinizing them. "You're saying the Gorons are massing their forces near the tree line?" He looked perturbed. "The last time they marshaled their forces that close, they..."

"Nearly overran your garrisons and attacked the castle town, yes." Terek finished his thought. The implications hung heavy in the air.

The King sat back in his throne. "Wonderful." He tipped over his empty chalice. "Not only do I have that _fiend, _Terminus to worry over, now those savages are assembling at our front gate!"

Terek leaned over and set the chalice up-right. "Now, Sire, we cannot be sure that is their intent."

Sarcasm dripping from his voice, the king rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure it's nothing more than a training exercise. Oh wait; they don't have training exercises, _BECAUSE THEY'RE FUCKING SAVAGES_!" He screamed, throwing the chalice Terek had just picked up against the wall.

His advisor was quiet for a time. Finally he spoke. "We may not know their motives. But I know someone who may know, and why not slay two giants at once?" The king looked puzzled for a moment, until realisation dawned on him.

"You mean..." Yet again, Terek interrupted him.

"We know where he is, or rather, where he will be."

The king grunted in satisfaction. "Bring him to me, _alive."_


End file.
